On Ice
by Skillzyo
Summary: Hockey player Santana Lopez has her entire world flipped around when she meets a peculiar blonde figure skater named Brittany in the waiting room of the ER one night. Faberry is lightly sprinkled here and there as well.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, nor do I own Glee or Zambonis. If I owned a Zamboni, I would never leave the driver's seat.  
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**AN:** This is just a side project I have going on to kind of... stretch my creativity. Just a forewarning to those who are actual hockey and skating enthusiasts... I have been on the ice a grand total of one time in my life. I also hate hockey. But I _love_ the idea of Santana being a hockey player. After watching my friend play several games, this idea sprang into my head. No idea how long it will be or where it is going, but hopefully it is still enjoyable.

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><p>Santana had never been a fan of hospitals. She hated the way the aroma of bleach and antiseptic invaded her nose almost as much as she hated the way they looked. Since she was one of the most physical players on her college's hockey team, though, she had paid several visits to emergency rooms, and all of them were interchangeable. The one she was currently sitting in was no exception. Half of the walls she had passed on her way in were too barren to inspire any level of hope, while the other half were decorated with so many bright colors, it was almost patronizing. As if pretty paintings could take her mind off of where she was or why she was there. Being a hockey player, however, meant Santana spent a lot of time in hospitals for both herself and her teammates despite how much she hated them. And the thing she had come to hate most about them? The waiting room.<p>

What was there to enjoy about a room full of strangers staring at each other, wondering what the other's story was? Granted, Santana didn't really care about why the other people were stuck in the room with her. The only thing she gave a damn about was how many losers had to get checked out before a doctor could be bothered to take care of her. After all, the throbbing pain in her nose and the ache in her wrist weren't going to go away by themselves.

She got her hopes up when a scrub-clad nurse poked her head into the waiting room, only to physically deflate when the monotonous voice called for a 'Hudson' rather than a 'Lopez.' She watched a tall, gangly man pull himself out of his chair and limp across the waiting room. She scowled as the lucky bastard followed the nurse out the door. A low growl emanated from her throat when she realized she had been waiting a good half-hour longer than the hulking gimp and her name still hadn't been called. She quickly pushed that thought aside as she yanked a magazine off the table next to her chair and flipped through it with her good hand.

Several magazines later, a door creaked open, drawing her gaze away from the mass of blotted text and pulling it to the doorway. Her eyes landed on two blonde figures occupying the space, both of them rather tall and blocking any light trying to come in from the hall. The height and hair color was the end of their similarities. While one wore a thin smile and a dark blue leotard, the other sported a sneer that seemed etched into her face and a blood-red tracksuit. When she realized she was staring at the two women, she dropped her gaze back to the upside-down magazine in her hand. She didn't bother looking over when she felt someone sit in the seat next to her. She assumed that, since she was so obviously immersed in the magazine, the person would ignore her.

"Does reading that upside-down make it easier to understand?"

The soft voice shattered that hope. She started to regret declining Quinn's offer to wait with her. Especially when locks of blonde hair obstructed her view of the magazine.

"Ever heard of personal space?" she asked in a clipped voice as she jerked away from the intruder, hissing and dropping the magazine when she banged her injured hand against the wooden table. She leaned forward and let her dark hair form a curtain in front of her face to hide the tears that were making her eyes sting. The last thing she wanted was to cry in a room full of strangers.

A foreign weight suddenly pressed against her back and started to move in a circular motion. Santana could feel the heat of the woman's hand burning through the fabric of her sweat-soaked, black t-shirt. The pleasant warmth spreading through her back took her mind off the tiny knives lancing through her wrist. She glanced over to find blue eyes raking over her form. When those wandering eyes met hers, the stranger gave her a small, lopsided smile, softening her angular face. Santana didn't smile back.

"Feel better?"

"I'd feel better if I had some fucking painkillers in me," Santana replied as she retrieved the magazine she had dropped and flipped it over so it was right-side up. She was skimming through an article about the rising costs of prom dresses when she realized the hand was still resting against her back. "If I have to move your hand away from my back myself, you're not going to like it," she warned in a low voice, not bothering to look over as she spoke. The hand stayed where it was for a few seconds before it moved up. Santana rolled her eyes at the action and yanked her shoulder away from the blonde's grasp.

A yelp came from the girl beside her and, despite her determination to ignore her, Santana looked over to see the blonde cradling her arm close to her torso. After taking a closer look, she noticed the way the top of the limb jutted out and how the bone was awkwardly straining against pale skin.

"I didn't know your shoulder was dislocated," Santana muttered. It was the closest she was going to get to apologizing. The blonde responded with a weak smile before she hesitantly removed her hand from her injured arm. She bit her lip, a move Santana recognized as an attempt to take the mind off of a more severe pain by giving it something else to focus on.

"I slid into the boards a little too hard during skating practice," she offered in explanation though Santana hadn't asked for one. "What did you do?" she asked as her eyes traveled down to the bloodied hand resting on the arm of the chair.

"Protected my goalie from a stupid bitch who wouldn't take a hint," Santana replied with a low chuckle.

"Oh," was the quiet response she received, and she looked over to see the blonde's eyes still focused on her hand with her brow furrowed. "I guess if you were protecting someone else from her, she deserved it."

"Trust me. She definitely deserved it."

"I do."

Santana raised an eyebrow at the softly spoken words that seemed so sure of themselves. The blonde finally looked up from her hand and locked eyes with Santana.

"I do trust you," she said a little louder, and Santana was taken aback by the intensity the blonde had said the four small words with. She felt whatever response she had planned get trapped in her throat. Unable to force a reply through her lips, she looked back down at the magazine. Instead of reading though, she cast sidelong glances at the blonde sitting next to her, who was looking at the magazine in Santana's lap.

She looked to be around Santana's age, but the light dusting of freckles across her cheeks added a touch of childish innocence to her appearance. The light blue of her eyes and the white gold hair tied back in a loose ponytail made her the poster child for stereotypical American beauty. Sweetness practically oozed out of her pores. She was the kind of girl Santana loved to hate. There shouldn't have been anything different about the girl beside her.

"Brittany!"

Santana watched the blonde's head turn in the direction of the receptionist desk, where the older woman was standing with her arms crossed over her chest. A small, scrub-clad man stood next to her, a clipboard in hand and a stethoscope hanging from his neck. Despite her intimidating appearance, the woman in the tracksuit seemed to keep her distance from the male nurse, as if he were some oddity to be avoided.

"Get your ass over here so these doctors can prove their competence. And make it snappy, 'cause I have a late night placenta mask calling my name!"

Brittany waved back at the older woman with her good arm before turning back to Santana.

"You should come in with me. You've been sitting here way longer," the blonde offered. A bright smile spread across her face when Santana nodded her response and stood up with her. A few minutes later, they were following the nurse down a long, white hallway. The older woman had stayed behind, telling Brittany she had some paperwork to deal with. She could have sworn she heard the woman muttering something about 'abnormal male professions' under her breath.

"Your mom is kind of… weird," Santana remarked once the nurse had abandoned them to find a doctor. She immediately took over the hospital bed dominating the white-washed room and basked in the comfort the flimsy mattress provided. Sprawling out on the bed was better than sitting on one of the black chairs pressed against the wall. Her ass had had enough hard plastic for a lifetime after sitting in the waiting room for so long.

"My mom?" Brittany repeated as she wandered into the middle of the room. Her brows furrowed together as her mouth silently formed the two words over and over again. Blue eyes widened and sparkled as an airy laugh filled the room. Santana's eyes narrowed into a glare when it seemed like the blonde was laughing at her. "Sue's my coach, not my mom," she explained once her laughter died down to quiet chuckles. "She just fills out my forms because I can never remember all of my information."

"And she can?"

"She's been my coach for a long time," Brittany replied as she shrugged her good shoulder and looked down at the tiled floor. Silence descended on the room like an itchy blanket and both occupants shifted their weight as if they were trying to wriggle their way out of the discomforting quiet. Luckily, the nurse returned with a doctor in tow, who broke the silence for them by asking about their injuries.

An hour later, Santana came out of the room with a prescription for high strength pain killers, a temporary cast for her broken wrist, and two black eyes from her broken nose. Brittany left with her arm in a sling, a pack of ice wrapped to her shoulder, and a sticker of a smiley face covering the bridge of her nose. She claimed she wanted it there so she could match Santana.

"Thanks for sitting with me and holding my hand while he put me back together. And thanks for not laughing when I cried," the blonde said as they approached the door leading to the waiting room. Santana could still see leftover tears mingling in the blue eyes, shimmering whenever the fluorescent lights caught them.

"Dislocated shoulders hurt," she replied with a shrug as she pulled her gaze away from the hypnotic irises. The fact that Brittany hadn't laughed at her in the waiting room was another reason why Santana hadn't mocked her for screaming when the doctor had set the shoulder back into place; not even when that screaming turned into harsh sobs and then quiet sniffles. Comforting had never been Santana's strong suit, but she had tried her best to make the other girl feel better while they were in the examination room.

"Brittany!" Sue's impatient voice interrupted their attempt at conversation from the waiting room. Rather than directing her attention to her coach, however, Brittany let her gaze linger on Santana, which only served to further incense Sue.

"It was nice meeting you, goalie protector," she finally said once her eyes finished raking over the smaller girl's form. When Brittany's words registered, Santana realized she still hadn't given the girl her name. Before she had the chance to remedy that, a pair of soft lips was colliding with her own.

Normally, Santana would have decked any asshole who decided to kiss her without permission. The way Brittany's tongue slid over her lower lip, however, made her think twice about shoving the blonde away. Her eyes slipped closed as she leaned into the kiss, her hands acting of their own accord when they traveled to the blonde's hips and pulled her closer. Her mouth opened slightly and Brittany's tongue returned, this time sliding softly over Santana's. And then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Brittany slipped out of Santana's grip and a smile appeared on the sweet, pink lips that had just kissed Santana into another world.

"Like I said… Nice meeting you," Brittany repeated with a small wave before she left Santana standing in the hallway with her hand pressed against her mouth.

"Yeah…" was the only response Santana could come up with as she watched Brittany walk through the door to the waiting room. It seemed the only thing she could focus on was the toned pair of legs carrying the rest of the gorgeous body away from her.

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><p>The months that followed Santana's visit to the hospital crawled past. She was unable to participate in most of the hockey practices due to her fractured wrist and playing in a game was out of the question. While the injury may have kept her from busting heads on the ice, however, it didn't stop her from busting her ass during off-ice practices and skating drills. When she didn't have hockey and schoolwork to entertain her thoughts, her mind would drift to the girl she had met at the hospital. Whenever the bizarre blonde popped into her head, so did the kiss they had shared.<p>

It wasn't the first time Santana had locked lips with another smoking hot female. In fact, she had learned from several high school parties that she enjoyed kissing other girls more than she should. After several confusing years of experimentation, Santana had reluctantly admitted to herself and Quinn that she was more than a little gay. Just because she was gay, though, didn't mean she went around flaunting it so everyone would know. It wasn't like she wore a rainbow cape or had the double Venus sign tattooed on her forehead. So how had Brittany known she played that way?

"Is there something about me that screams 'Carpet Muncher?'" she asked Quinn one evening as she pulled on a thick pair of black hockey pants over her grey shorts. The cast that had covered her hand and wrist had been removed a month before, and her doctor had finally given her permission to start building her strength back up. She had wanted to start sooner, but Quinn refused to help her until she brought back a note from her doctor saying it was safe for her to practice. Santana could have practiced by herself, but it was much more fun pelting her goalie with slap-shots.

"Well, you certainly don't exude heterosexuality."

"'Exude?' Quinn, I think you've been hanging around Berry a little too much," Santana replied while she tugged one of her skates on and started jerking on the laces to tighten it. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean anyway?"

"It means you are about as subtle as a brick when you see an attractive woman," Quinn pointed out as she strapped the large leg protectors onto her shins. She glanced up from the straps and quirked an eyebrow at Santana before she asked, "This _is_ about the girl from the hospital, right?"

"Maybe," Santana replied. The raised eyebrow arched even further, almost disappearing beneath Quinn's pink-tipped bangs, and Santana ducked her head before mumbling a "yes" under her breath. She glared at the blonde when she heard her chuckle at the reluctant confession.

"Don't give me that look. You've been going on and on about the audacity she had to kiss you since that first night you came back from the hospital with a goofy smile plastered on your face."

"Yeah, you've definitely been hanging around Rachel too long. I doubt I said 'audacity,'" Santana said with a roll of her eyes. Quinn had just finished pulling her shoulder pads on when she stopped to tap her index finger against her chin.

"You're right. Your exact words were, 'That girl had the nerve to put her lips all up on mine without any warning.' So much classier," she said with a chuckle as she leaned forward to lace up her skates.

"Whatever, Fabray. Just because I don't use the entire dictionary when I talk like your hobbit girlfriend tends to do doesn't mean I'm not classy," Santana objected in a low growl as she got up from the wooden bench. She raised her arms towards the ceiling and stretched out her muscles, wincing at the popping noises that came from her back, before looking over her shoulder at the girl who was still getting ready. "I'll see you out on the ice. I don't have time to wait for your slow ass to get all your gear on," she told the blonde before she started to walk towards the door. Just as she reached it, she felt something hard bounce off the back of her head, and then heard a soft thud from behind her. She looked down to see a roll of black tape on the ground next to her foot.

"Don't call my girlfriend a hobbit, Lopez," Quinn warned her with a lop-sided smirk. Santana rolled her eyes again and hit the tape back with the blade of her hockey stick. A smug smile spread across her face when the tape roll went between the goalie's legs. She then left Quinn with a wink and headed for the rink to do a few laps.

When she skated onto the ice, she looked into the stands and saw a short, dark-haired girl clad in a bright pink cardigan and a white skirt. The other girl waved at her, a wide smile threatening to split her face in half, and Santana reluctantly responded with one of her own. It still felt weird to greet Rachel with a wave rather than an insult, but she had promised Quinn she would try to be nicer since the two started dating. The thought of her best friend getting her mack on with the aspiring star still made her shudder, and she shook her head to rid herself of the mental image.

Instead of thinking about Quinn and Rachel getting their lady loving on, Santana lost herself in the simple action of skating. Her mind cleared as she absorbed the sound of the blades slicing a path in the ice. Her quick strides were in sync with her heart beat as she skated the length of the rink. Her arms took turns moving forward, as if she was pulling herself across a rope, hand over hand. She skidded to stop, sending a spray of ice against the boards, and turned to speed towards the opposite end. Her chest was heaving by the time Quinn skated out to the net.

It was always hard for Santana to reconcile the slim figure of her best friend with the bulky mass that now blocked the net. Then again, seeing Quinn decked out in full pads made it much easier for her to let loose with her shots. If she was able to think of Quinn as an obstacle instead of her friend, then she had no problem ripping a slap-shot at her from the point.

Once Quinn was in position, Santana slowed her strides and went to the bucket Rachel had left by the rink entrance. When she kicked it over, pucks tumbled out and she grabbed the nearest one with her stick. Shifting the puck from one side of the stick to the other was as natural to her as breathing. No thoughts were necessary as she moved the puck from center ice to the goal. She skated behind the net, only to skid to a stop and change direction. While Quinn was still trying to readjust to the change, Santana tapped the puck into the net.

"Eat it, Fabray! I'm still hot shit!" she exclaimed. She held the stick out horizontally and moved it from side to side as she skated backwards. She yelped when a heavy water bottle hit her in the chest, interrupting her victory dance.

"I'd like to see you do that in a real situation," Quinn growled out from behind her mask. "Now come on. Make some real shots instead of this fancy crap you'll never be able to pull off in a game," she ordered, slapping her wide stick against the ice for emphasis. Santana rolled her eyes at the buzzkill before going back to the bucket of pucks. She lined ten up at the blue line and spent the next hour trying to dump them into the goal. Every time Quinn stopped a shot, Rachel would give a loud yell and Santana would look up to glare at her, only to find the girl was too busy blowing kisses at Quinn to notice her. By the time they had finished the practice, Quinn had stopped the majority of Santana's shots. Not that either of them were counting. That's what they brought Rachel along for.

"Santana, I have to say that, even though your wrist isn't up to full strength yet, your performance was astounding," the smaller brunette said from her perch on Quinn's back. She had to raise her already obnoxious voice to be heard over the sound of the Zamboni cleaning the ice. Quinn had traded in her goalie pads for a pair of jeans and a black band tee. Santana couldn't see what band it was because Rachel's arms and legs were wrapped around Quinn's middle, hiding the logo. She had her face buried in Quinn's shaggy locks and kept sneaking quick pecks on the cheek, making the blonde's face turn as pink as the tips of her hair. "Not a lot of players can get half as many shots on Quinn, even when they're at full strength. Kudos to you."

"Thanks, Berry," Santana grunted. She had exchanged her own hockey gear for a faded pair of jeans and a grey wife-beater. "I've played with your girlfriend a lot longer than you have, though, so I kind of already know how good she is."

Santana hadn't realized how wrong that sentence sounded until she heard herself say it. Before she could even think the word 'wanky', techno music blasted through the arena's speakers. Her attention was drawn to the ice, where the Zamboni had been replaced by a girl. She stopped in her tracks when she noticed the loose, blonde hair cascading down the girl's back. Quinn stopped a few steps ahead of her and followed her gaze down to the rink, where the girl was stretching. Wanting a closer look, Santana climbed over the seats and made her way down to the glass. She watched as the tall figure finished stretching and started to take long strides across the ice.

"That's Brittany Pierce."

Rachel's voice pulled Santana out of her observations. She looked over to see Quinn and the diva had joined her and Rachel had dropped down from the goalie's back. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her cardigan. Quinn had her arms wrapped around the diva from behind and her head rested on on the shorter girl's shoulder.

"Skating is her life," Rachel continued. "She's been on the ice since she was six years old. Her bedroom is decked out with so many first place ribbons and medals, you can't even see the walls. She has a collection of trophies for skating that almost rivals my own collection of song and dance awards."

"Yeah?" Santana asked as she watched the blonde skated by them. She was only able to get a brief glimpse of her face, but the moment lasted long enough for her to recognize those electric blue eyes. "I'm pretty sure she's the one who kissed me at the hospital," she said as the pulsating techno music died down and switched over to a softer song. Santana thought it was something about stars, but she couldn't remember the title or the singer for the life of her. What she did know, however, was that Brittany made the transition between songs look effortless. She was too busy watching the skater readjust her speed to the beat to notice the way Rachel's jaw drop.

"You... _She's_ the one who kissed you? She's your Brittany?"

Santana nodded, but she didn't tear her eyes away from figure on the ice. She had thought the blonde was beautiful the first night they met. True, she hadn't been in the best of moods and she hated most of the blondes she knew on principle alone, but there was something about Brittany that attracted her. She thought it may have been the tight leotard at the hospital, which had promised a fit body beneath the fabric. Seeing her in her street clothes, though, was proving that theory wrong. Even in white jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt, the girl was still making her stomach do acrobatics.

"Rachel, how do you know what her bedroom looks like?"

Quinn's question was enough to pull Santana's attention away from the skater and focus it on the couple beside her. She almost laughed at the choked sound that escaped the usually eloquent girl's throat. Rachel turned away from the glass so she could look up at Quinn.

"I saw it in a magazine?" She sighed when Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine. We briefly dated when I was a freshman in college," she admitted in a hurried voice. "And while she was quite dextrous and attentive as a lover, you are the only other person who fits my style of lovemaking, Quinn," she added on.

"Wait. Ew. You dated the girl who kissed me?" Santana asked. Quinn looked like she was still trying to process the information as well, but for a completely different reason.

"I assure you both, it was a very brief affair," Rachel explained with raised hands. "Brittany and I... We were not on the same mental wavelengths. I focused on my grades and she," Rachel turned and nodded towards the skater, who was in the middle of a rapid spin, "was so focused on skating, she barely graduated from high school. She didn't even attempt college."

Santana returned her attention to the blonde on the ice. She had pulled out of her spin and started skating backwards. Her feet quickly crossed over one another as she made a wide turn. Her jaw dropped when the girl jumped and spun several times before hitting the ice with steady feet and a grin. The impact of the landing didn't slow her down. She used the momentum to spin herself so she was skating backwards again. Santana couldn't look away as Brittany raised one leg up and created a perpendicular intersection between her legs and her torso. She didn't snap out of her trance until Quinn was asking if she was ready to go.

"You go ahead and take Berry home. I'm going to stick around and see if I can catch her when she's done," she said, waving them away from her. The other two girls looked at one another before shrugging and saying a quick goodbye. They were halfway up the stairs when a thought struck Santana. "Don't you dare use my bed or the couch for whatever sexual escapades you are planning, Berry!" she called up to the retreating figures. She heard one of them giggle in response. "I swear, if I find you on the couch or in my room trying to prove to Quinn that you're only interested in her, I will kick your ass back to the shire!"

She wasn't sure if the girls actually heard the rest of her threat, but Brittany had regained her attention, so she didn't really care.

Santana knew it took skill to skate in hockey. She had been playing since she was thirteen after a counselor suggested she find a sport to serve as an outlet for all of the emotions she was repressing. At the time, she saw it as an excuse to hit people without any major repercussions. As the years went by, she grew to love the sport and the skill it took on skates to play it. Hockey was different from baseball and football in the respect that it used sets of muscles most people weren't even aware existed. She prided herself on being skilled on her skates. What Brittany was doing, though, blew her mind. Her mind was so blown, in fact, that she didn't notice the music had stopped until a pair of bright blue eyes was looking into her own.

"Holy shit!"

She fell backwards into the metal seats. She bit out another expletive when she felt an armrest dig into the small of her back. On the other side of the glass, Brittany had covered her mouth for a second before skating towards the door in the boards to leave the ice. Santana called after her once she found her voice, which stopped the blonde in her tracks.

"I'm okay!" she assured the other girl, despite the throbbing pain in her lower back. "Can I come out there with you?" she called out. She was rewarded with a bright smile and a quick nod of the head.

As soon as she was back on the ice, Santana was wrapped in a tight hug. She was beginning to think Brittany had no sense of personal boundaries, but, with her face buried in the taller girl's chest, she found she didn't really mind. She briefly returned the hug before pulling away so she could get a better look at the girl she had met months ago. She had to admit, Brittany was a bit more intimidating in skates than she had been in the emergency room.

"It's nice to see you again, goalie protector."

"It's Santana."

"What's Santana?"

"My name. It's Santana. Not goalie protector," she introduced herself with a crooked smile. "You kissed me before I had the chance to tell you," she reminded her. Brittany grinned at the mention of the kiss. Her face didn't even attempt to blush.

"I was hoping you'd remember that," she admitted.

"It's kind of hard to forget a stranger planting one on you at a hospital," Santana said with a shrug. "It also helps that you made it worth remembering," she added on when she saw the pout that was starting to form on Brittany's face.

"I saw Rachel with you."

"Yeah. She may have mentioned you two knew each other. And by knew, I mean dated."

"She talked a lot. I listened a lot. We had sex a lot afterwards," Brittany explained with a shrug. "We broke up after my cat threw up on one of her sweaters."

"Seriously?" The blonde nodded and Santana shook her head. "I can't believe she dumped you over something your cat did. The puke probably made the sweater look better."

"Actually, I dumped her," Brittany gently corrected. "I told her if my cat didn't like her, we weren't meant to be," she explained as she started to skate backwards. Santana followed after, taking slow steps so she didn't slip. She was the picture of perfection on the ice when she had her skates on, but sneakers and ice never mixed well for her. She shrieked in surprise when Brittany started skating towards her, only to fly passed. Before she could turn to see where the other girl had gone, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her middle and lift.

"Holy fuck! What are you doing?" Santana yelled. She had never looked down while she skated, so seeing the ice speeding beneath her was a new experience she wasn't entirely fond of yet.

"Giving you a lift," Brittany replied, and Santana could hear the smile behind her words. "I didn't want you to slip and fall."

"Brittany, the last time I saw you, you had a dislocated shoulder," Santana pointed out. "This can't be good for that."

Before she could add to the protest, Brittany had set her down in the penalty box. The blonde was giving her a small smile that made her look shy for once as she said,

"That was months ago. My shoulder is all better now."

"Well, still... You shouldn't just like, pick people up like that."

"You were scared, weren't you?"

Santana's eyes briefly widened at the accusation before narrowing into a glare. She took a step closer to Brittany so she was just beneath the blonde's chin and looked up.

"I was not scared," she said in a firm voice. "Santana Lopez does not get scared. Santana Lopez doesn't even know the meaning of fear, and you can't feel something you don't know the meaning of. Therefore, Santana Lopez does not feel fear."

"Does Santana Lopez feel this?"

For the second time since they had met, Brittany's lips pressed against Santana, clearing her mind of any coherent thoughts. Just like the first kiss, Brittany pulled away before the it could venture out of 'tame' territory, yet she still managed to leave Santana gasping for air.

"Santana Lopez definitely felt that," she murmured once she caught her breath. She looked up at the blonde, who was wearing a smile that made her seem pretty proud of herself, and slowly shook her head. "Berry really should have tried harder to get along with your cat."

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><p><strong>AN:** So yeah. Like I said earlier, this is just a side project I've been working on. I'm trying to get back the writing style I started LBUT with because the latest chapters of that story have been severely lacking in something and I can't put my finger on it. So, I've been working on this, trying to figure out what it is I've been missing. While this is kind of a side-project, I do have a plot planned for it. It's definitely going to be a bit sillier than LBUT. Not that LBUT isn't silly. This is just going to be... different. Hope you enjoyed this little portion. Going back to work on LBUT now!

Songs mentioned: Starry Eyed by Ellie Goulding. Suggested by** uhpockuhlipz**, who is always amazing and helpful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I'm not dead so please don't kill me! Look, I come bearing gifts. It has been over a year since I updated this but hey, inspiration struck and this happened. Dedicated to **killercereal** because she hasn't been feeling well and she's pretty awesome.

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><p>Santana Lopez was not a coward. She could pick fights with girls twice her size on the ice and not break a sweat. Even more impressive, she could watch horror movies in the dark confines of her basement without screaming. So why was her heart beating so fast outside the front door of a certain skater's house? She took a deep breath, the cold air tiny knives scraping against her throat, and shook her head. She raised her fist to knock, but stopped just before her knuckles could rap on the brown door. A low groan rumbled in her throat as she rested her head against the cold wood. She yelped and took a step back when it opened inward, revealing a leggy blonde in tight blue jeans, a striped black and white t-shirt, and a black fedora atop her wavy curls of hair. Her blue eyes sparkled in the yellow glow cast from the porch light.<p>

"I didn't think you were ever gonna knock," Brittany said as she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

Santana's cheeks flared red and she ducked her head. "I was working on it."

Once the heat left her cheeks, she cleared her throat and offered Brittany her hand, who smiled and laced their fingers together. Santana swallowed. Somehow, she managed to tell Brittany their chariot awaited them without stumbling over her words. Blue eyes brightened and Santana led her to the Jeep parked near the sidewalk. The snow crunching beneath their feet was the only conversation between the two of them as they walked across the yard. Santana's hand shook when Brittany let go to climb into the passenger seat of the Wrangler. After shutting the door harder than she intended to, Santana hurried to the driver side and climbed into her seat.

Afraid Brittany would freeze without a jacket, Santana blasted the heater. They made it halfway down the street before Brittany clicked it down several levels and smiled at the smaller girl.

"Sorry," Santana said with a sheepish grin before she looked back at the road. She hoped that wasn't a stop sign she had just passed. The last thing she needed was to get pulled over on her first real date with Brittany.

Date. Her gut twisted and throat constricted when she thought about the word, but when she caught the blonde girl watching her with those sparkling blue eyes, the knot loosened and she could breathe again. She just hoped Brittany liked what she had planned. She had to promise to ref the next youth league tournament to get Puck to help her, but it would be worth it if it made Brittany happy enough to want to go on another date. The thought of another date with the blonde made the corners of her mouth curl into a smile as they turned onto the main street.

When the Jeep pulled into the dark parking lot of the local ice rink, Santana shut off the engine and cast a nervous glance at Brittany. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe Brittany didn't want to spend more time on the ice than she needed. It wasn't too late to catch a late night movie if Brittany didn't mind missing the first half of the show.

"Are you coming or should I give you a couple more minutes with the ghost in my seat?"

Santana blinked at the sound of Brittany's voice and realized the blonde had already slipped out of the Jeep, which meant she had been staring at an empty passenger seat for who knew how long. She cleared her throat, trying to distract herself from the embarrassment pooling in her cheeks, before she hopped out of the Jeep. After she was sure it was locked, she joined Brittany. Long fingers grasped hers and she looked down to find Brittany's hand holding hers again. She took that as a good sign and gave the hand a soft squeeze before she led her to the side door of the ice rink. The two keys Puck had loaned her jingled when she pulled them out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

Dim lights flickered to life as the two girls entered, a burst of cold air and a flurry of snowflakes following them inside. Once Santana shoved the heavy door shut, she turned to find Brittany rocking on her heels, cheeks and nose rosy from the wind.

"Do you want my coat?" Santana asked, already pulling her arms out of the sleeves of the leather jacket.

Brittany shook her head and leaned down. "If I get cold I'll just let you warm me up," she whispered, her breath tickling the skin next to Santana's ear.

When Brittany pulled back, Santana ducked her head, tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, and tried to ignore the feelings pooling just south of her stomach. She cleared her throat and managed not to stutter as she asked the blonde to follow her through the air-conditioned halls of the arena. They shuffled onto the ice several minutes later. She was just as surprised as Brittany to find the blanket in middle of the rink and a wicker basket on top of it. Puck had actually come through for her. Brittany squealed and slid across the ice towards the blanket, leaving Santana to shuffle after her. She really was a mess without her skates.

Once she reached the blanket, she took a seat next to the blonde, who had the basket cradled in her lap. Her fingers drummed against the top until Santana gave her the okay to open it. Her face lit up as she slid one finger under the edge of the lid and flipped it up, revealing bread, peanut butter, jelly—grape and strawberry—and two bottles of sparkling grape juice.

"I wasn't sure if you were allergic to peanut butter or what you liked so I—"A pair of soft lips cut Santana off and she started to think she hadn't screwed up her chances yet. When Brittany pulled away, Santana rubbed the back of her head before she pulled out the bread and plastic knives.

Two peanut butter sandwiches later, the grip Santana's nerves had on her loosened and she found her missing confidence. Her usual charm returned with it.

"So this Blondie and I, we don't get along at all," she said as she leaned forward for the bottle. "She thinks she's all hot shit because she's a starting goalie her first year on a triple A team and I think it has more to do with daddy's money than her skill level."

The cork popped loose and she poured the juice into one of the paper cups Puck had left in the basket. She offered it to Brittany, but the blonde shook her head and took the bottle instead. Brown eyes watched pink lips wrap around the lip of the bottle, transfixed. They pulled away with a 'pop' and a smile and Santana snapped out of her trance.

"I figure sharing a bottle isn't that big of a deal if we've already kissed three times," Brittany said with a grin as she put the bottle down.

"So that's why you kissed me all those times," Santana replied. "You just wanted 'straight-from-the-bottle' privileges. I get it."

"I can't believe you figured it out." Brittany chuckled and bumped her shoulder against Santana's. When Santana didn't pull away, she leaned her head on the smaller girl's shoulder. "You're so smart. You should be a detective or something."

"I could definitely pull off the uniform."

"You could wear the handcuffs well, too."

"I think it's the perp who's supposed to wear the cuffs," Santana pointed out. Her breath caught when Brittany's lips pressed against her neck.

The cup fell from her hand and the purple juice spilled onto the blanket, but she was more concerned with the tongue running along her skin and the thigh positioning itself between her legs. The hand that once held the cup gripped the fabric of the blanket, bunched it in her fist as Brittany moved along her neck, gently nipping at her skin. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to give Brittany more access, but then the blonde pulled back. When Santana opened her eyes, she saw a smirk on the other girl's face.

"Sometimes a perp can get the jump on the cop," Brittany said.

Santana's mouth opened slightly before she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to capture the blonde's lips in a real kiss. She was tired of Brittany catching her by surprise.

The other girl didn't object when she gently lowered her to the blanket. The fedora slipped off Brittany's head, but the blonde didn't seem to mind. Slender fingers ran through the dark strands of Santana's hair until the hand came to rest at the back of her neck. Santana broke the kiss to move down to Brittany's exposed neck and collar bone. The blonde squirmed beneath her. The hand on her neck moved to the collar of her jacket and squeezed when Santana shifted her leg. The darker girl pulled away and smiled at the pink tint in the normally pale cheeks.

"What were you saying before, about the perp getting the jump on the cop?" she asked before she rolled off the blonde. Her smile turned into a smirk when she heard Brittany groan and smack her hands on the blanket. She sat up before Brittany could get her revenge and got to her feet. She held her hand out to the other girl and helped her up as she said, "I've got another surprise planned."

Brittany grumbled under her breath but followed Santana, much to the shorter girl's pleasure. She slipped on the slick surface of the ice, but a hand on her shoulder steadied her and stopped her from embarrassing herself further.

"I promise I'm much better at this when I have skates on," she said as they slowly crossed the rink. Brittany's arm looped around hers and the blonde leaned her body into Santana's.

"I saw," she replied with a nod. Santana's brow furrowed and she looked over at the blonde. "When you were at that rink with Rachel and the other girl, I watched you skate," she admitted. She ducked her head, but Santana could still see the shy smile on her face when she said, "I hoped you would be watching when I was skating."

Santana chuckled and bumped her hip against Brittany's. "Aren't you just full of surprises, Ms. Pierce," she asked as they reached the edge of the ice.

Brittany nodded and tightened her old on Santana's arm as they walked through the empty halls beneath the bleachers. Halls that led to locker rooms, storage rooms, and the Zamboni parked near the wide gate at the edge of the rink. Santana dug in her pocket for the keys from Puck and dangled them in front of Brittany's eyes.

"What do you say to a spin around the rink, Ms. Pierce?" She twirled the ring around her index finger and smiled up at the taller girl with the sparkling blue eyes. She felt Brittany's hand twitch against her hip and stepped aside before the blonde could snatch the keys away from her. Her smile morphed into a smirk. "Gotta be faster than that."

"Oh yeah?"

Santana started to nod, but a pair of lips attached to hers; a pair of lips that was starting to become very familiar. Soft, pliable lips that fit hers perfectly. Brown eyes slipped shut as she allowed herself to relax. She didn't notice Brittany's hand drifting towards hers until she felt Brittany tug the keys from her fingers and pull away from her with a wide smile.

"You don't play fair," Santana grumbled, but Brittany only laughed and climbed up the Zamboni. Santana muttered under her breath as she followed the blonde to the bright yellow seat at the back of the green, tractor-like machine.

Brittany leaned back in the small seat and shifted her legs so the shorter girl could comfortably sit between them. Once Santana was settled, Brittany's arm slipped around waist and rested on her lap while Brittany's chin rested on Santana's shoulder. Santana twisted the key in the ignition and the ice-cleaning behemoth rumbled to life beneath them. She was ready to get the Zamboni moving, but the closed doors to the rink put a damper on those plans. She slapped her palm against her forehead before she scrambled down from the seat so she could unlatch the doors. After the path to the ice had been cleared and Santana was back in the seat, she gave the okay for the other girl to start driving. They made it to the other side of the rink before Brittany's free arm looped around Santana's waist again and pulled the smaller girl against her torso, as if they weren't close enough as it was.

"I'm sorry if this date is kind of lame," Santana said as they rounded the second corner of the rink. "I just didn't want to do the same old dinner and a movie routine for someone like you."

"This is way more fun than making out in the back row of a theater."

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds even worse."

"I'm serious, Santana. The only thing that would make it more fun would be another one of these. I'm pretty sure I could beat you in Zamboni bumper cars," Brittany said. Silence filled the space between them for a moment before she asked, "What did you mean when you said someone like me? Do you not want people to see us together?"

"No!" Santana winced at how loud her objection was. "I mean, no, I don't mind if people see us together," she said in a more reasonable voice. She laid her hand over the one Brittany had placed against her stomach. With a little coaxing, she let Santana lace their fingers together. "I was just trying to say that, well, you deserve more than a mundane dinner and movie date."

The corners of Brittany's lips twitched and she leaned forward to rest her head on Santana's shoulder once more. "You're sweet," she said as she rubbed her thumb over the back of Santana's hand.

Neither one of the girls noticed that the Zamboni was losing speed. Santana was too busy turning to face Brittany and Brittany was too busy watching Santana move. The bulky machine came to a stop as the girls shifted their attention from the ice to one another. A tan hand reached forward and tucked a blonde lock of hair behind a pale ear.

"Only to people who deserve it," she said. "And you, Ms. Pierce, definitely deserve a bit of sweetness," she added before leaning forward and giving Brittany a quick peck on the lips. A pout was on Brittany's face when she pulled away. "Oh, you think you deserve a little more?" Brittany nodded. "I'm glad we're in the same boat," she said before joining their lips once more.

Long, slender fingers buried themselves in Santana's hair to keep her from pulling back. Brittany's other hand slipped under Santana's shirt and traveled along the toned muscles of her abdomen, slowly moving from one side of her stomach to the other, exploring each bump with her fingertips. Santana clutched the hem of Brittany's shirt. Her grip tightened and breath caught when the girl's hand stopped exploring her stomach and moved further up. The touch forced a moan from Santana but Brittany's mouth absorbed most of the sound.

Santana moved from the blonde's lips down to her neck, to her collarbone, to the prominent clavicle bone, trailing kisses to the gap between Brittany's breasts. Brittany's breathing quickened and the hand in her hair clenched when she reached the spot just above her goal.

"Santana," Brittany breathed into her ear. "Santana, we need—Jesus Christ!"

"Not really in the mood to hear about Jesus right now," Santana said with a smirk before she moved back up to the hollow of Brittany's neck. The blonde's head tilted back when the tip of Santana's tongue touched her skin.

"Santana, we should—" Her breath caught again and her back arched.

"We should what?" Santana asked once she pulled away from the blonde's neck. Brittany straightened herself in the seat once more, giving Santana a better view of her flushed cheeks and the dilated pupils of her sparkling eyes.

"Get back to the blanket," Brittany replied before nipping at Santana's lower lip. "I don't think it's safe to sex and drive, even if it's just a Zamboni," she said with a smile after she pulled away.

"Sex and…" It took a moment for Santana's head to catch up with what Brittany was saying, but when she did, she swallowed and nodded.

She couldn't get off the Zamboni fast enough. Crossing the ice to the blanket would have been hell if it weren't for the pair of toned arms holding her up as they shuffled over the slick surface. Once they reached the blanket in the center of the rink, Santana kicked the picnic basket out of the way and guided the blonde down to the comforter.

"You are like the best blanket ever."

Brittany smiled at her before leaning up and pulling Santana into another kiss. It didn't take long before they were continuing what they had started on the Zamboni. It did, however, take them a bit longer to finish.

* * *

><p>Santana was humming when she walked through the door to her apartment. Humming. Quinn and Rachel sat up on the couch when they heard the sound, their hair disheveled and shirts wrinkled, and watched as Santana walked past them without one snarky remark. Quinn's brow furrowed. She raised a hand, signaling for Rachel to stay put, and followed Santana to the refrigerator in the kitchen. She waited for her friend to pull out a bottle of water and close the door to the fridge before she asked,<p>

"Having a good night?"

Santana startled, spilling the water from the bottle onto her shirt, and glared at Quinn. "I was until some pesky blonde showed up and started pestering me," she said. She took a swig of the water and peeked into the living room. "Seriously, Quinn? Why do you have to play Berry Quest on the sofa? You two have a room for a reason."

"You're avoiding the question."

"No, I answered your question. _You're_ avoiding _mine_," Santana said. She pushed past the blonde, but Quinn's hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her from leaving the kitchen. Santana rolled her eyes and scoffed, but gave in to the pout on her friend's face. "Look, I had a good time, okay? Brittany is cool."

"It looks like you had more than just a good time."

"If you could already tell then why the fuck did you ask?" Santana jerked her hand out of Quinn's and went back to the living room.

After making Rachel scoot over, she dropped down to the sofa. Something hard poked into her backside. She shifted and reached behind her back until she grabbed the offending object that had been poking her in the ass. It was a bra. Rachel snatched it out of her hands and gave her the best apologetic smile she could muster as she clutched the bra to her chest.

"It's like a god damn minefield in here," Santana muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back. Then again, it wasn't like Brittany and herself hadn't created their own mess in the ice rink. That thought made the corners of her lips twitch into a smile.

She couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself the way she had with Brittany. It was more than just the sex, although she certainly wasn't complaining about that. She genuinely enjoyed their time together, even when they weren't trying to see who could frustrate the other more. Brittany had a way of talking that made Santana want to listen and those damn blue eyes were practically hypnotic.

Santana shook her head but the smile remained. There was definitely something special about Brittany S. Pierce and Santana intended to stick around long enough to find out what it was. As far as she was concerned, she only had one final test to pass. That test had four legs, a hairball problem, and a name: Lord Tubbington.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> It's not as long as I wanted it to be, but I didn't want to force anything. It also took a way different turn than I planned. Still, I hope you all enjoyed it. : ]


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